Making Amends
by low vs diamond
Summary: - "He didn't look bitter like I expected, he didn't look betrayed like he should have. He looked as if had no faith in anything anymore."
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**

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**Sunday, September 5th, 1967**

There really wasn't much I could say about what had occurred in the past year. It was a mystery as to how I got through it all, but eventually I pulled through. I think what baffled me the most was that I had pushed away anyone that wanted to get close to me. But at the same time, it didn't surprise me. I had been that way my whole life, and it's hard to think that I will ever change.

Recently, I have learned that in life, people come and go. Whether you try with all of your will to hold onto them, or if you simply just let them slip away. You have to fight like hell to make sure you're still alive after you're heart breaks, or you make a decision that will effect everyone. Maybe it was a lie you told, and you're afraid to fess up and tell the truth. Or maybe it was something you did, that shook everyone you care about, and you made no effort to fix it.

As corny as it sounds, I wished that none of 1966 had ever happened. It was one of the worst years I have ever lived, and to think that I was actually happy before now. That was optimistic bullshit. I wasn't happy, I was miserable. Ever since the incident, I didn't remember how to be happy, or what it was like to really have a good time and let loose.

My mom gave up on me. She still allows me stay in the house, but if I come home late, or even at all, she doesn't talk to me. She used to give me long lectures on how I had to 'smarten up' and 'take responsibility for once'. Now that I think back, I have many regrets that I am ashamed of. Things that I would, still, do anything to fix them.

My dad quit trying to communicate with me. After he left my mom, my kid brother and I, he had somehow found a way to contact me. During those times, he started to get to close to me. So, without even knowing it, I pushed him away to the point where he left again. I haven't heard a word from him yet, and I don't think I will for a long time. But it was my own fault that I pushed him away, whether I liked it or not.

I walked into the police station, looking around. It was all black and grey, as if I was in some sort of old movie. The ground was grey, the walls were a smokey grey, and the doors were black. I could faintly hear the talking of the officers - probably disciplining a juvenile delinquent - but I was here for one reason, and one reason only.

"Can I help you?" an officer said, coming up from behind me. He tipped his hat as I looked over my shoulder.

"I was just wondering," I looked down at my hands. "Do you know who Steve Randle is?"

The officer shifted a bit in his position, hardening up his face. "Are you a family member?"

I shook my head. "A good friend of his. I'd like to see him, if that's okay."

The officer studied my face, as if trying to figure out why I would want to do such a thing. I think he was considering not letting me, but he didn't say a word for a few moments. I thought police were supposed to be hard and cruel? Well, at least that's what Dally told me. This officer's face looked gentle and sympathetic, an expression I haven't seen in a long time.

"I suppose," he said alas.

I sighed in relief, as he told me to follow him. The only noise I heard was coming from the steps of our feet, the beat sounding off track. He opened the door to a large room that was big and empty. The ground was cement, and it was narrow with plain grey walls. There was a rectangular table in the very back and two brown-rusted chairs tucked beneath it. He pointed to the back, where I was told to sit down. I was hesitant on going, but I eventually did go.

The seats were the kind of chairs that you could fold together. I sat in the chair closest to the wall, and looked out the window. It was covered in bars, but through it all, I could see the city. The buildings, the factories, the cars, the houses, the schools, everything. It would have been a nice view if it wasn't from here.

I was in a daze, until someone took a seat in front of me. My eyes darted to the figure, who looked completely different. His hair was no longer greased or in complicated swirls. He had lost weight, but he still looked like he could whip anyone that entered his path. All of his life he had that same bitter look, but for the first time, I was scared. I wasn't sure if I was scared for myself, or for him. His pupils were large and black with a faint dark blue ring around them. His eyes looked worn out. They had faint circles under them, as if he hadn't slept in days.

I bit my lip and studied him as the officer did me. What the hell had happened to him? He looked like a complete stranger. He looked real rotten and beat up. Like a broken record, maybe. He didn't say a word, he just cleared his throat and looked at a spot on the table. I followed his gaze, but saw nothing. I looked across at him; he looked like the entire universe was on the one spot.

"Steve?" I asked softly, disbelievingly. I didn't want to believe what had happened to him, how he turned out after these years. Maybe he had been doomed all along, I just hadn't noticed it. The only person that would've had the slightest bit of notion was Sodapop, and I doubted he had been aware of it.

His dull, worn out eyes looked at me. I thought about how happy and delightful he used to be, on his good days at least. Ignoring the fact of how rude he could be, he was always a good person. Deep down inside, just like we all are. He didn't say a word, he just sat there looking at me with a hard face. I looked down at my hands again, wishing I had something to fidget with. "What?" he finally said.

By his tone, I looked up and across at him again. He didn't sound bitter like I expected, he didn't sound betrayed like he should have.

He sounded as if he had no faith in anything anymore.

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**A/N**: **Good enough for a prologue? Review**


	2. Opportunities

**A/N: I do not own The Outsiders. Sorry for the long wait; I've had writers block on this story for a while. This chapter is pretty bad, mostly because it's my starting point in the series. The character is REVEALED! :) Oh, and the chapters are going to remain short. But this will be a pretty long fic, I suppose. R&R!**

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**Saturday, January 2nd, 1966**

I walked into the Dingo, causing the bell above my head to ring. When I saw the amount of un-served customers, I nearly had a heart attack. I worked part time at the Dingo every Tuesday and Saturday; the occasional Sunday. I only worked Sundays if they were short an employee. I didn't mind though, I got more tips, and it added onto my pay check. As I scanned the crowd of people, I frowned slightly. Saturdays were usually packed with people, unlike Tuesdays. Personally I liked working Tuesdays much better. They were quieter, and all I really had to do was sit around then get paid.

"Evie, hon, I'm so glad you're here!" Laura, the manager, walked down the cramped aisle, squeezing through and past people. The Dingo was a small yet spacious place to eat or hangout. On one side of the restaurant, there were a good five table booths that could fit numerous people at a time. On the other side was a long bar-looking table with stools and red cushions. I much preferred working at the bar over the booths any day.

"Sorry I was late," I sighed as we walked into the backroom. I quickly slipped into the bathroom, changing into the baby blue uniform dress, and gave Laura an apologetic shrug. I fumbled around, looking for my notepad, grabbed a pen, and walked out of the room and into the crowd.

I seated a few more people, then started at the end to take orders. "Welcome to the -" I cut myself off, recognizing the faces. Steve, my boyfriend, was sitting in the booth with a few people I couldn't quite remember.

"Evie?" He cocked an eyebrow, looking slightly surprised to see me. We had been dating only a few weeks, but I figured we knew enough about each other. We definitely had our fair share of fights and heated arguments, but really, what couple didn't?

"What?" I knew that my voice was full of rudeness, and I could have been a thousand times nicer to him, but I couldn't help it. Unfortunately, I was a natural sarcastic person, and that wasn't about to change.

"Whadd'ya doin' here?" He asked. Before I could answer, Laura put her hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently.

"No talkin' to the customers, Evie. We've got business to take care of."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I shrugged her arm off of my shoulder. When Laura was soon out of sight taking orders, I turned her attention back to Steve and his buddies.

"I work here part time," I gave him a confused look. Surely I had told him that before. I didn't tell him much about my personal life, unless he asked or it came up in the conversation. My memory may not be so good, but I could remember clearly that I had specifically told him I worked here.

"Oh yeah," he shook his head. "Well, uh, just get us the usual."

I scrawled the pen across the small notepad, then looked at him threw my eyelashes. "Who're these guys?"

"You don't know them?" He gave her yet another shake of his head, before turning to the guys. "Two-Bit, Soda, Johnny, Dal."

I looked each of them over, as they nodded at me, two of them winking. Two-Bit had the grey eyes and the sideburns, Soda was the cute looking one, Johnny was the tanned one and Dally had the white-blonde hair. Two-Bit and Dally had winked at me, yet again, when they caught me looking at them. I studied Soda carefully, trying to remember him. One of my good friends, Sandy, had bragged about Sodapop numerous times to count. From what I had been told, Soda was a happy-go-lucky type of guy who was always smiling. That was the gossip Sandy had dished out about Sodapop before they started going steady. Now, he looked as if he would cry if given the opportunity.

"Steve, can I talk to you for a sec?" I asked, looking around to make sure Laura wasn't watching. As I turned her head, Laura was leaning against the bar, lifting both of her eyebrows. I bit my lip, giving my best '_please?_' expression. Laura just nodded, held up five fingers, then walked away again. "Five minutes. That's it."

Dally nudged Steve. "Didn't know that's how long you take."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

I took hold of his rough hands, leading him threw the crowd of people. When we got to the back room where the employees hung out on their breaks, I sat down in one of the chairs. Steve sat across from me, carefully giving me a stern look. Steve had thick greasy hair, that was combed back into complicated swirls. He was cocky, smart, and knew cars inside out. He was the type of guy who liked fights, and had a violent temper, but that never made me think less of him. I had always figured he was only like that because he didn't have anybody to look up to in his sixteen years. The arguments we very often had were so heated because we both had the same stubbornness and unwillingness.

"What's wrong with Sodapop?" I asked.

He scowled at me. "_That's_ what you wanted to talk about? Soda? Yeah, well, I -"

"Not that," I shook my head, fiddling with the hem of the short dress. "Why's he so down? Sandy told me..." I trailed off, unsure of what to tell him.

Steve paused for a moment, staring holes into me. He then had a change of expression, and looked away from me. I knew Steve would tell me whatever was wrong; it would just take a few moments for him to decide on how to word it. "His parents died the other day."

I nodded, feeling sympathy for him. I didn't know what it was like to lose someone you love, so I could only imagine how hard it must be for him. There was nothing that I could do to help him, and I normally didn't feel this way for people, but I really did sorry for him. "Oh."

Steve drummed his fingers on the table. "That all you want?"

I glanced up at him him, giving him a look of disbelief. "What?" I tried to scramble his words around, to make something positive of his tone. Maybe I took it the wrong way, maybe he hadn't _really_ said that...

He stood up, pushing the chair back with the back of his legs. "Is that all you wanna talk about?"

"You in a hurry to get back to your friends?" I cocked an eyebrow, giving him a suspicious look.

"Yeah," he shrugged, glancing at me before he exited the room. My fists clenched, as I had a sudden urge to hit something. Anything. Turning around, I smacked my fist into the wall, causing a sharp pain to shoot up my whole arm. I yanked my arm back, cradled it, and squeezed my eyes shut. How boys could punch walls repetitively was beyond me, but the anger that easily raised inside of me was to much to ignore. I was so sick and tired of Steve and I always fighting, or getting in arguments over nothing. It seemed as though we could never talk to each other without _something_ going wrong. There was never a time where we could just get along - just once.

"Evie? Are you alright?" Laura rushed in the room, her hand resting on my shoulder blade.

I blinked back the tears that were threatening to escape, as I stood up straight and shook my fist. "Yeah, fine. Slipped."

Laura raised both eyebrows, wrinkles forming on the base of her forehead. "Are you sure nothing happened?"

As much as I liked Laura's company, I could do without the nagging. Of _course_ I was fine. I only just punched a fucking wall, no big deal. A fucking _wall_. "Look," I snapped. "If something was wrong, I woulda told you, okay? I just had a fight with my boyfriend." _Again_.

Laura didn't get angry at me, despite my short temper. I liked to believe that Laura understood what I was going threw, even though it seemed like Laura had no experience with boys whatsoever. "Did you want to take the day off? I'm sure I could call one of the girls in, they would surely take your shift."

I bit my quivering lip. "I don't hava ride home."

Laura knitted her brows together, taking her hand off me. "How did ya get here, then?"

"My mom dropped me off," I said quickly, trying to avoid the lump that was forming in my throat.

"Honey, I would love to drive you home, but business is so crowded today. Do you think your boyfriend -"

"No," I shook my head, already aware of what Laura was about to ask. "He wouldn't. I would rather talk to him alone then without all of his buddies there. It's like he -"

"Shh," Laura cooed, drawing light circles on my back. "You know what? I think you and Steve should sort things out before you come back."

I looked at Laura, surprised at her polite words. I knew those words, and that tone. Laura was either getting to the point of firing her, or she wanted her to take a vacation. Either way, that just couldn't happen. "I'll stop, I promise. He won't come 'round anymore."

I knew by the look in Laura's eyes, that she had already made up her mind. And the polite tone she continued to use didn't help either. I had a bad habit of letting Steve get to me. Hell, for all I knew, he had already forgotten about it. "Steve is a nice boy, but he is being a distraction for you lately."

"Sorry," I quickly said. What I had said about Steve not coming around to the Dingo anymore was a complete and false lie. I had no control over him, and I wasn't about to ask him either. He hardly listened to me, but I figured he didn't listen to me because I hardly listened to him. We were the exact same - short tempered, stubborn and determined.

"Alright," Laura sighed. "But I have already called one of the girls to come on in for you, so you can take the day off to work things out."

Without another word, I walked out of the small office room. My eyes scanned the crowd of people, and it seemed as though nothing had changed. As I caught the familiar blue eyes, the sides of my mouth tugged up, until I saw a girl beside him. The girl was talking animatedly, not caring whether or not Steve was paying attention. Oh, _hell_ no.

I walked with my chin up, and my eyes focused. When I got to his booth, he looked up at me. I leaned against the table, and smiled at him. "Hey Steve, did you wanna hear a funny joke?" My voice was full of fake peppiness and enthusiasm, perhaps even a little to much. Steve gave me a cautious look, narrowing his eyebrows.

"What?" he asked calmly.

I pulled my hand back, and gave him a slap. "Our relationship."

The boys 'oo-ed' and 'ahh-ed' as I left the Dingo. It was a long walk back to my house - I didn't live close to the Dingo - but I needed the walk.

"Evie," an all to familiar voice called from behind me. I spun around, fuming, as I starred face-to-face with the boy who made me want to yell bloody murder.

"What?" I could feel the palms of my hands beginning to get clammy - and the sudden urge I had to hit something again was becoming irresistible. My knuckles were swelling up, and I knew there would be a bruise there. Sylvia probably would have told me how 'tuff' it looked. It didn't took tuff, it looked terrible.

"I'm sorry," he placed his hands on my hips, bringing me closer to him. I laid my hands on his chest, resting them there for a second, then pushing him back.

His blue eyes were staring down at me, as if I was off my nut. "Evie, his parents just _died_. His brothers and the gang is all he has left now."

"I know," I snapped. "But do you think _I_ like when ya treat me like shit?"

"I don't treat you like shit," he cocked an eyebrow. I looked away, crossing my arms. I knew that I probably looked like a five year old, but hell, I couldn't help it.

"Yeah, you do. You know I ain't one to complain," I looked back at him. "But I'm sick 'n tired of all this fightin'."

"Come on, baby," he put his hands back on my waist, tightening his grip as I tried to pull away. As he pulled me against his chest, I continued to cross my arms and look away. He knew the moves that would get me to forgive him in an instant - and that was just to unfortunate. He leaned down, his lips brushing my cheek. "I'll make it up to you."

I shut my eyes, and let out a quivering breath. It took all my will and might not to kiss him right then. So instead, I pushed him away again. "Steve Randle, we're this close," -- I pinched my fingers together -- "From being over with for good. I'm gonna give you one last shot, mess it up, and we're finished."

I heard him sigh as I walked off, purposely letting my hips sway from side to side. "Lemme drive you home," he caught up to me again. I looked in his eyes, and automatically knew that his intentions weren't to good.

"Fine," I muttered. He put his arm around my waist, and walked me back to the car. I knew when I had told him 'one more chance', meant nothing. For as long as I could remember, I had always developed a liking for Steve. Sometimes he drove me crazy - in good and bad ways. But most of the time I wished desperately we could stop fighting and act like a regular couple. Not exactly Sylvia and Dally...maybe Soda and Sandy. He was good to her, and she was good to him. As I looked back at him, he looked down at me. As much as I hated to admit it, I loved Steve Randle, and there wasn't anything anyone was going to do to change that.

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